


Superman VS Lone Ranger

by LiliGrey



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Halloween Costumes, M/M, just shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiliGrey/pseuds/LiliGrey
Summary: Napoleon persuades Illya to go undercover… as Lone Ranger.





	

**Author's Note:**

> One Lone Ranger :D

  

 

This is definitely one of the most amusing missions Napoleon had ever been on.

 

This was not least because of the fact that it involved a very well organized Halloween party, where he had picked out both he and his partner’s costumes, because Illya had, once again, lost a bet to him.

 

He absolutely loved the impression on Illya’s face when he saw the costume.

 

“No. Absolutely no.” Illya Kuryakin resolutely stood by Napoleon’s doorway, refusing to wear the ridiculous costume to the party organized by their overly wealthy and very decadent mark. He was apparently annoyed as his trigger finger drummed agitatedly on his crossed arms, as once again, the American agent got on his nerves. “And why am I cowboy, Cowboy? Hat is ridiculous.” He accused.

 

Napoleon sniggered inwardly but put on a straight face. “It’s not a cowboy, Peril, it’s the Lone Ranger. Very fitting to your personality, don’t you think? I even had the shirt, vest and jacket tailored specifically for you.” Napoleon held up the suit, which was indeed tailor made to accentuate Illya’s tall and broad shouldered form.

 

“Fine, but I will wear only suit. No cowboy hat.” Illya was still glowering, but he reluctantly walked forward and his fingers brushed across the soft fabric of the suit jacket somewhat appreciatively.

 

Napoleon pouted. Persistent, he held up the mask and hat. “Come on, Peril, a good disguise is never complete without all the necessary pieces, you should know that. If you don’t wear these, you are going to draw attention.” He tried to appeal to his partner’s practical and logical side, although he knew that no matter what costume his partner wore, he would undoubtedly draw attention. Who wouldn’t take a second glance at all 6’5’’ of blond gorgeous Russian?

 

Illya glared some more. Then he snatched up the mask and headed towards Napoleon’s bathroom in long strides. “No hat!” He shouted over his shoulder.

 

Well, he considered it a win that he managed to get his partner to wear a costume at all.

 

When his partner came out of the bathroom, he looked absolutely delectable. Napoleon needed to remind himself to pay his tailor extra as he ran his eyes appreciatively over the lithe figure.

 

Illya seemed a bit uncomfortable under Napoleon’s intent gaze, and he fiddled with the Ranger star on the jacket.

 

Just a few finishing touches needed.

 

“Cowboy…” Illya eyed him warily as he approached, but didn't stop him when he raised the red scarf to his neck.

 

He carefully secured the thin fabric around his partner’s neck, feeling the muscles beneath his deft fingers clench as he brushed against the vulnerable skin of Illya’s throat when he tightened the knot. He then let his hand trail down to pop open the first shirt button, and pulled the collar apart a little to reveal a small V of skin, completing the slightly roguish picture.

 

“Hmm, better.” He murmured, and looked up into the piercing blue gaze of his partner, a small smile on his lips.

 

They stayed like that for several timeless moments, close enough to share breath, until Illya frowned and backed up a step, sweeping his gaze along Napoleon’s form disapprovingly. “What are you wearing? Is ridiculous. You look like clown.”

 

Napoleon bristled a bit at being called a clown, but he stretched his arms out graciously, knowing exactly how the costume showed off his muscled form and exactly how tight the fabric stretched across his skin. He turned around in a slow circle, having yet to don the cloak, knowing exactly what the view from the backside looks like.

 

He turned back round with a smug smile as he caught Illya’s eyes widen and his adam’s apple bob slightly.

 

“Why, I am Superman, of course.” Napoleon winked.

 

Their mission started smoothly, with them blending easily in with all the other party goers.

 

The only difficulty faced was that Napoleon was feeling a bit lightheaded from containing his laughter, when every single guest they encountered had greeted them with something along the lines of, “Lost the hat, Lone Ranger?”

 

By the tenth or eleventh guest, Illya looked like he was ready to snap some bones if anyone else dared approach and try to talk to him.

 

Valuing his neck, Napoleon had purposefully not said “I told you so”, but the uncontainable laughter in his eyes said more than words.

 

It got to the point where Illya slammed him into an alcove when they walked by an out of sight corridor and pressed close, those large hands holding him firm against the wall.

 

Napoleon found he could no longer contain his mirth as he let out a puff of laughter, his eyes tearing up a bit from all the suppressed amusement.

 

As he looked up at his partner with the smile still on his lips, about to say some slightly sarcastic comment, he didn't expect Illya to suddenly jerk back from him as if burnt, and quickly walk away down the hallway, muttering unintelligible Russian curses under his breath.

 

Napoleon stared after his retreating back, his eyes contemplating.

 

 

//////////

 

 

Napoleon hid a sneeze in the crook of his elbow, then snuggled deeper into his tangle of blankets, wrapping his very fluffy superman bathrobe around him. He had bought it on a whim when he bought his costume, but it was soon becoming his favourite garment.

 

Napoleon sighed, feeling a bit sorry for himself.

 

Their mission didn’t quite end as smoothly as it had began, involving them taking a dive off their mark’s balcony into the freezing waters in the swimming pool below. Illya had shrugged it all off like the super-agent that he was, but Napoleon, on the other hand, had caught a rather bad case of the flu and twisted his ankle badly when they flipped over the garden walls.

 

Life is just so unfair.

 

Even more unfair was the fact that this time, it was not even his fault. His partner, spy extraordinaire, was the one who had missed the obvious alarm, although Napoleon can’t really blame him. He did sort of purposely tease his partner the whole evening, so in a way, it was kind of his fault.

 

A knock came from his door and Napoleon groaned a bit, reluctant to leave the warmth of his cocoon. Though he did wonder who would be visiting poor, lonely Napoleon on Halloween night. His colleagues are probably all having fun at the Halloween party that Gaby had been excitedly telling him all about.

 

He felt a bit sorrier for himself for missing the party. He really had been looking forward to it as Halloween had always been one of his favourite holidays, and after all, who doesn’t love a good costume party?

 

Grumbling, he climbed out of his blanket fortress and went to open the door. It was probably Gaby, who promised she will bring him some left over pumpkin pie after the party.

 

“You know you didn’t need to flaunt…” The words died on his lips and he couldn’t help but stare at the figure standing in his doorway.

 

Illya blushed and tugged at his shirt a little self-consciously. He was, in fact, wearing the same costume he had worn in their previous mission, washed and pressed, but this time complete with the hat.

 

Napoleon was still staring and Illya quickly looked down, as if to check whether he had worn something wrong, which was apparently when he remembered that he had brought gifts.

 

Illya quickly held up his peace offerings. “Here, these are for you.”

 

Napoleon’s eyes widened even further and his jaw dropped.

 

“I, uh, can I come in?” Illya asked somewhat nervously, looking a little unsure of his welcome.

 

That snapped Napoleon out of his shock as he remembered his manners. He quickly hopped back on his good leg to allow room for Illya to pass through, almost tripping over in his haste. Illya caught him by his elbow and Napoleon gave him a brief smile.

 

Illya laid down his presents on the dining table.

 

It was a steaming pumpkin pie and a jack-o-lantern.

 

“Did you make them yourself, Peril?” Napoleon said in wonder as he ran his fingertips over the delicate carvings on the pumpkin. The knife strokes were broad but the carving was incredibly detailed. He lifted a small candle and placed it into the pumpkin, completing the effect of the unmistakable silhouette of a cowboy riding into the sunset. “Where did you learn to carve like that?”

 

Illya muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

 

“What was that, Peril?”

 

“Youtube.” Illya admitted reluctantly.

 

Napoleon looked at him incredulously and burst out laughing.

 

Illya blushed again and rolled his eyes, a smile touching his lips.

 

Napoleon pulled him towards the couch. “Now I’m dying to try that pie. Did you learn that from Youtube as well?” There was still laughter in his voice.

 

Illya just grunted and didn’t dignify that with a response. Which probably meant he did.

 

Napoleon sank into the soft cushions with a satisfied sigh, wrapping his fluffy robe around him more securely and motioning for Illya to sit next to him.

 

Illya complied, albeit a bit rigidly, and Napoleon quickly snuggled close, sniffling a little, and heaved a satisfied sigh. His partner was like a walking human furnace.

 

“Are you still ill?” Illya looked at him a little worriedly with his customary frown and laid one of his massive paws across his forehead.

 

Napoleon felt his cheeks warm a little. He always had a thing for his partner’s hands. They are just so _big_. He shook his head and burrowed himself closer, satisfied to feel a hesitant arm drape across his shoulders.

 

“Sorry, Cowboy. Was my fault. I should have seen alarm.” Illya was apparently still blaming himself for Napoleon’s cold. His hand hasn’t left Napoleon’s face and was now rubbing soothing circles on Napoleon’s temple.

 

“It’s not your fault, Peril. I’m sure you were, justifiably, distracted.” Napoleon let a playful smirk tug the corner of his lips up.

 

“Cowboy…”

 

Napoleon tilted his face slightly to the side and Illya brought their heads close together and captured Napoleon in a slow kiss.

 

Napoleon ran his hand up Illya’s torso, smoothing along the fine trim of the jacket, toying with the Ranger star. He tugged at the red scarf to bring them closer together, deepening the kiss. His fingers played with the soft velvet of the mask, then tangled themselves within soft blond strands, dislocating the cowboy hat. Illya groaned into the kiss.

 

They finally broke apart, panting, and Napoleon’s stomach chose that moment to protest its negligence.

 

Illya huffed out a breath of laughter and it was Napoleon’s turn to blush.

 

“Seem like I have Cowboy to feed.”

 

“All in the job description, Ranger.” Napoleon smirked back.

 

Illya smiled indulgently and reached out for the previously forgotten pie.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, for some of you who might have read this bit in “The Haunted House Affair”, I appologise for that. The plot bunnies came across me the night before Halloween and I wrote the whole thing when I was completely sleep deprived. After reading the fic the following morning and wondering why it felt so strange, I realized it was because I loved both plot bunnies so much I was reluctant to drop either and ended up having a slightly monstrous hybrid of two completely different styles with plots that really shouldn’t be put into the same fic…and so here we are.


End file.
